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Cleopatra, the Miracle Player’s tribute to the queen of Egypt, takes
the best of Plutarch, Shakespeare and Roman Holiday. No shy Audrey
Hepburn, this Liz Taylor of a Cleopatra only feigns innocence abroad. This
first liberated woman of the Roman empire has about as much use for
Gregory Peck as she does for a distaff.
Cleopatra, languishing in Egypt, persuades the ruler of the western world,
Julius Caesar, to take her along to Rome. There she hopes to instill
imperial yearnings in the reluctant Caesar while nursing an heir apparent
only to her, Caesarion. Caesar, however, is determined to keep Rome a
republic and spends long hours in the Senate, leaving Cleopatra free to
tool around downtown Rome on the back of Marc Anthony’s Vespa. Smitten by
his boyish charms, Cleo develops a full-blown crush on the rakish Anthony
after the Ides of March. Undeterred by the paucity of his mental gifts,
Cleopatra enlists herself as his chief of staff. Thankfully, she is there
to salvage the famous funeral oration, which Antony bungles. Cleopatra
shapes his “Friends, Romans, Countrymen” speech into a series of
well-positioned sound bites – for without her assistance, it was rapidly
devolving into a plea for the loan of a couple of brewskis. They repair to
Egypt where they toss an inflatable globe beach ball on which they’ve
redrawn the contours of the empire. In the power vacuum left in Rome,
Octavian, Caesar’s adopted heir, watches impatiently as Antony gambles
Rome’s fortune during his dalliance in Egypt. Tension bottlenecks in the
Battle of Actium. This deftly choreographed bathtub battle of cardboard
galleons is a storm in a teacup, complete with CNN coverage. The empire
that Julius Caesar dreaded and Rome became grew out of the battle of wits
between the Queen of the Nile and Octavian, the only man impervious to her
considerable charms. Giulia Bernardi’s Cleopatra is not just a power
hungry femme fatale, but one whose rosy-eyed illusion of empire includes
hopes for free trade, cultural diversity, and enough harmony for her to
write her beauty tips in peace. This brashly comical look at ancient Rome
contains some not-so subtle critique of contemporary imperial policy for
which the crumbling backdrop of the Arch of Severus provides an apt
setting. Hurrah for the Miracle Players, who give us arch wit and wisdom
in low-budget togas and Tevas!
Stephanie L.
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